


Splinters

by Dain



Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Gen, Misplaced Guilt, Silver Age, it's Jack no worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 07:18:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dain/pseuds/Dain
Summary: There’d been blood in the dream, too, blood soaking into the floor, coating his tongue. In reality there had been no blood at all, just diamond dust, and Scott thinks there’s something grotesque about that - like he’d demolished a statue rather than killing a person.





	Splinters

_crack_

Scott’s eyes fly open, and for one terrifying moment he’s sure that the noise had been his visor breaking and that he’s about to see the ceiling crashing down around him. But that moment passes without incident and he’s left staring up into what passes for darkness nowadays.

He can still remember bits and pieces of the dream, though most of it has already faded. There’s a flash of reflected light, a voice in his head - he’s not sure whose - and that noise that woke up him, which he thinks was part of the dream rather than part of the waking world. A sound like glass shattering (only it wasn’t glass) and then the figure of Jack Winters collapsing into a million glittering pieces.

There’d been blood in the dream, too, blood soaking into the floor, coating his tongue. In reality there had been no blood at all, just diamond dust, and Scott thinks there’s something grotesque about that - like he’d demolished a statue rather than killing a person. His vision had dyed Jack’s remains red, but that wasn’t the same.

An image of Jack before his transformation looms in Scott’s mind, large and imposing with fists that could punch through steel, and he might have been strong but Scott’s not sure he couldn’t have killed him then, stopped him, and at least if he had there would have been a body…

After a few increasingly panicked kicks Scott manages to free himself from the blankets he’s cocooned in and clamber out of bed, after which he just - stands there. He doesn’t want to get back under the blankets that had felt so suffocating just a moment before, but he’s not sure if he’s allowed to leave his room or turn the light on at night and he doesn’t want to risk getting in trouble so soon after the Professor opened his doors to him - it’s only been a few days, and the Professor could easily change his mind. He doesn’t want to be on his own again; that was how Jack found him in the first place.

He’s gotten used to everything being red by now, or as used to it as he thinks he’s ever going to be, but in the dark there’s something unsettling about it. He stands frozen next to the bed, his heart thumping in his chest and head and fingers, something in him struggling to identify a threat that (probably) isn’t there.

The image of a widening crack marring a glassy surface (but it’s not glass, he knows it’s not) rears its head and snaps him out of his stupor. He sits down with his back nestled into the corner, holding his knees to his chest, facing the door, trying not to think about what it sounded like when Jack broke into pieces or what it would feel like to die that way or whether or not there had been blood on the floor. He thinks he’s safe here, probably, but he’s thought that before and been proven very, very wrong, and he doesn’t want to take any chances.

So he stays in the room and he watches the door because he knows he’s caused enough harm for it to come back around to him and, selfish as it is, he wants to be safe.

**Author's Note:**

> For a request on [Tumblr](https://ndscottsummers.tumblr.com)!


End file.
